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The passion to condense from book to book Unbroken wisdom in a single look, Though we know well that when this fix the head, The mind's immortal, but the man is dead.
Yvor Winters
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Yvor Winters
Age: 67 †
Born: 1900
Born: October 17
Died: 1968
Died: January 25
Author
Journalist
Literary Critic
Poet
University Teacher
Writer
Chicago
Illinois
Looks
Head
Mind
Wisdom
Men
Passion
Though
Condense
Look
Unbroken
Wells
Immortal
Book
Single
Well
Dead
More quotes by Yvor Winters
The land is numb. It stands beneath the feet, and one may come Walking securely, till the sea extends Its limber margin, and precision ends.
Yvor Winters
By practice and conviction formed, With ancient stubbornness ingrained, Although her body clung and swarmed, My own identity remained.
Yvor Winters
Even though poetry was written for the 'minds ear' as well as the physical ear, the minds ear can be trained only by the other ... which comes back to reading poetry aloud.
Yvor Winters
Professors of literature, who for the most part are genteel but mediocre men, can make but a poor defense of their profession, and the professors of science, who are frequently men of great intelligence but of limited interests and education
Yvor Winters
And one rose in a tent of sea and gave A darkening shudder water fell away The whale stood shining, and then sank in spray.
Yvor Winters
The rain of matter upon sense Destroys me momently. The score: There comes what will come.
Yvor Winters
What I desire of a poem is a clear understanding of motive, and a just evaluation of feeling A poem in the first place should offer us a new perception..bringing into being a new experience Verse is more valuable than prose for its rhythms are faster and more highly organised and lead to greater compexity.
Yvor Winters
The poet's first job of work is to put bread on the table.
Yvor Winters
Far out of sight forever stands the sea, Bounding the land with pale tranquillity.
Yvor Winters
Gascoigne, Ben Jonson, Greville, Raleigh, Donne, Poets who wrote great poems, one by one, And spaced by many years, each line an act Through which few labor, which no men retract. This passion is the scholar's heritage
Yvor Winters
Reptilian green the wrinkled throat, Green as a bough of yew the beard He bent his head, and so I smote
Yvor Winters